Like Ice & Fire
by littlebirdsflyinghigh
Summary: AU. Santana just bottles things up; Brittany, let's everything pour out. When they find themselves in the sea that is life  high school? , they try to fix their lives just a little bit, even if they do some wrongs in the way. Brittany/Santana!
1. on hiding & hapiness

_~ like ice & fire ~_

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><p>on the edge of our dreams we meet<br>on the edge of our hearts we jump.

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><p><strong>on hiding &amp; happiness<strong>

Sometimes—only sometimes—all you want to do is hide into a hole and never ever show up again. Because you think it's too much, because you _know_ it's too much. And sometimes you can't handle it, and maybe if you hid, everything would be easier. But you know things are never this easy to do, so you just bottle everything up and hold your head high, because that's the only thing you can really do.

At times, when no one is paying attention to you _(loneliness)_, you try to hide away. You've thought of hurting yourself at times, but you know it'll do you no good. Hurting physically would only bring release for a while; then, the wounds would heal on the outside, but on the inside you would still be hurt. Besides, you think people would notice if you showed up at school with scars—Coach made sure none of her girls got themselves hurt for _stupid_ reasons. So you just try to hide away from everyone else and cry. Because you never really cry, and, even though it doesn't help you much, it's something to feel.

Because you bring yourself to feel so much and, at the same time, to feel nothing, so things get confused on your mind—what should you do, what people expected you to do?

Sometimes—only sometimes—you wish you never existed.

-:-

When she was young _(more naïve)_, people told her that true love struck you like a train-wreck. It is unstoppable, breath taking and sometimes made your chest tight so hard that you feel like you might explode. She had laughed at the idea of someone exploding because it loved so much, and said that the only thing she wanted was not to explode.

Now, that she is older _(naïve)_, she still hasn't felt like a train had hit her. She was happy and excited and had everything she loved right beside her. At times, she would feel like her chest would explode with the amount of happiness she carried around, but she didn't, and, for that, she tried to make everyone happy too because she was _oh_, so relieved that she didn't explode.

Her mom would sometimes be as happy as she was, and they would dance and do so many things together that all she wished was that her mom was like that all the time. But sometimes things weren't so bright for her mom, and she wish it was. So she just tries to make her mom smile even if it's the smallest of smiles, and when her mom gives her that tiny shy smile, she knows her task of the day has been accomplished.

She's just happy; has everything she wanted for.

But sometimes—briefly—she feels like she's missing something.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hey there! How you doing? Hope you liked this. I know it's awfully short, but…well, it's the introduction. I kind of couldn't make it longer without messing this up (and I bet it's kind of messy already!), and I kind of couldn't have jumped it and start with the story already. Sorry for that. But I wanted to know if you liked this; so, tell me what you think!: even if it's two words, alright? Hahaha. Maybe I'll explain more about it later, if you guys like it…depends on you!

Oh, before I forget: all mistakes are mine. I'm not an native English speaker, but I try my best—I swear I do. But some things escape my eyes, and I'm sorry for that.

Give me feedback so I know what you think! I would love to know what's going through your head (:  
>See you around!<p>

_(p.s.: the naïve word…my computer says it has this ¨ , but the internet says otherwise. Since I love this ¨, I'll keep it! This is the only thing that I'll keep that might or might not be wrong—since I've read this on both ways and still haven't pay so much attention to know what's the right one. Sorrys! See you!)_


	2. on hopes & one particular book

**on hopes & one particular book**

People are made of fears and dreams, mostly.

Some people only know their fears, ignoring completely their dreams because they're afraid they also will turn into nightmares and other fears. Other people only know their dreams, and live in a paradise where nothing can touch them—they're so close to invincible there that it's frightening sometimes. And there are also the people that can manage to acknowledge both things: their dreams and fears, and, with that, they create their hopes. Hopes that grow like a flower: it was small and fragile at first, but then it grew beautifully and only to be spread.

Brittany S. Pierce, for that instance, was one of the people that acknowledge both things—both her fears and her dreams. She was made of them, and managing to get a bit of both at time, she built hopes so high towards certain things that it wasn't just a small flower: it was an entire cherry-tree.

She built hopes towards her mom, that she would get better and that she would be able to come back home to her and dad; she built hopes towards her little sister, daughter of her beloved stepmother, that she would overcome her illness and that she would be just like the other kids of her age; she built hopes towards her career, that she would be so good at what she did, that she could actually change the world just doing it.

It didn't matter, though, that she was afraid that anytime her little sister could get worse and never get better again. It didn't matter that the chances of her mom getting better were so low that it was almost silly to wish for her to get better. None of that mattered. Because Brittany had hopes, and sometimes hopes overcome fears and dreams—but mostly, in Brittany's case, fears.

**xxx**

Sometimes, thinking about hopes and dreams and fears led Brittany to the park, so she could stargaze when everyone at her house were sound asleep. It was an old habit of hers, of when her mom was still fine, and she didn't even dream of having a little sister.

Brittany would wake up late in the night, those years, and would soundlessly walk to her parents' bedroom, just to find her mom looking outside the window. She would then call her with her tiny voice and them both would dress up quickly on Brittany's room and would walk together to the nearest park, where they lay on the grass watching the stars shine.

Her mom would point to some stars and tell their stories, where they came from. Brittany would listen intently, because were rare the moments she got to be with her mom without somebody interrupting them or making her mom sad. She would cling to every word, make the right question and the funniest remarks so she could see her mom smile that big smile of hers and laugh that sweet laugh.

"Look at that star over there!" her mom was always saying when they got wrapped into a warm silence. Then she would re-tell this star's story, and Brittany would smile and try to picture the story behind her eye-lids.

Now that her mom was away and she had a little sister that was also sick, she didn't have anyone to go with her to the park—so she went there by herself, late in the night when she knew everyone was sleeping.

Brittany would simply lay there looking at the star-filled sky and think about everything that surrounded her, everything that didn't. Everything that she wished would happen, and everything that she didn't.

Sometimes she would think about fishes and cats and bubbles and enchanted reigns: of princes and princesses and kings and queens—dragons and wizards and gigantic cats that were her friends. Sometimes she would think about that small smile her little sister gave, even though she was so sick that it hurt to smile or laugh. Brittany would cherish those smile moments her sister gave her, and would think about them over and over again so she could feel warm inside.

One day her dad told her that they had to move. "Why, dad?" she asked naïvely, while painting her sister's arm with some markers—fairies and flowers and birds all up her arm and torso. "Mom's right up the road, and my dance classes aren't far away. Why would we move?"

"Not to anywhere around here, darling," he answered sitting next to their two children and hugging them tightly. "We're moving far away."

They would move to a small town called Lima. It was all the way up in Ohio, and they would move there because it was there that lived the best doctor to treat her little sister sickness. Brittany was sad for a moment, because she wouldn't see her mom every week and because she wouldn't have the park, but it was for the best—so why not move?

She said her goodbyes to her friends and dance mates, and then told her mom that she would visit her every month, without excuse. Even if she had to miss some classes she would visit her. And then they had moved.

People in her school were way meaner than in her other school, she found out soon enough. They threw this cold beverage on people's faces and usually mocked everyone else so no one really had a voice in the crowd. For one moment Brittany thought she had been pulled into a military high school, where she should follow the orders from people that she feared.

And, impressively, she feared some people in her school. She feared the jocks _(giants with cool jackets)_, she feared Coach Sylvester _(mother giant of all bullies)_ and she feared the cheerleaders _(pack of wolves—will hunt you down)_.

But she feared the most this cheerleader in particular.

It wasn't someone especially _big_, and it wasn't someone especially _strong_—it didn't have to be either of those, because she could inflict pain and shame with just her words. She sliced vicious words towards anyone that came across her. She would hold tightly to her books and threw her words like some people threw pamphlets on elections.

The girl in question was Santana Lopez: high school top bitch, _almost_ cheerleader captain, supposed girlfriend of jock Noah Puckerman, daughter of a renowned doctor, raised in Lima Heights Adjacent.

Brittany heard that Santana Lopez made hell of the lives of some people in the school _("glee clubbers")_, and that she was not someone to be messed with. "If you want to live through high school," one girl said to her when Brittany asked about the small girl that threw a slushy right to a smaller girl's face, "you _have_ to be away from her as much as possible. That's how you survive around here."

She didn't question it.

So Brittany avoided all jocks _("hey cutie, why don't you show up at my house?")_, all cheerleaders _("keep your eyes off him, Pippi Longstocking")_ and especially Santana Lopez.

The girl had not acknowledged Brittany once, but it was hard not to acknowledge _her_. She walked up the hallways like she ruled everything, always with that other scary cheerleader Quinn Fabray. She turned up her nose to most students and slashed mean words towards the ones she disliked the most; she didn't care if she was talking to students or teachers or even her coach: she would say whatever she had in mind to anyone who was around her.

Brittany witnessed some girls break down crying in the hallways once or twice, and she felt bad for those girls; she almost walked over to the Lopez girl to ask her to stop it, because the poor girls didn't deserve such treatment, but, selfishly, she wouldn't do it because she feared the girl's wrath.

"Brittany!" A teacher called for the hundredth time that class, making everyone look at her and laugh quietly. "Can't you at least pretend that you're paying attention in this class?"

Someone snorted on the back of the classroom, and Brittany saw it was Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray. She froze into place.

"Obviously she can't, ma'am," Fabray said kind of politely, trying to suppress her laugh.

"She's too much of a hair-head to even know how to _pretend_ to pay attention to anything," Santana continued, looking at Brittany. She looked the girl up and down and up again, and Brittany gulped. "Let the _poor_ girl dream; she was obviously daydreaming about her next adventure on her father's island."

Brittany knew most people in the class didn't get the joke—she didn't even know that cheerleader Santana Lopez had that much culture to _know_ Pippi Longstocking. She thought that only Quinn Fabray _(kind of smarter)_ knew the Swedish book.

"I'm sorry," Brittany muttered to the teacher and shrunk into her place, trying to hide her face as much as possible.

No longer after a piece of paper hit the back of her head, Brittany grabbed it, looking to the back of the room again. Santana and Quinn looked at her with devilish grins on their faces, and Brittany threw the paper on her bag. She knew it was something mean, and she didn't really want to see it.

Brittany might be someone that had dreams and hopes, but she also had fears. She feared that people would say mean things about her mom and little sister, and she was afraid that people might hurt them too. She didn't care about bullying, though. She just got embarrassed most of the times, so it didn't really matter.

When the class ended and Brittany ran off to her locker, she heard footsteps following her. When she finally stopped to open her locker, she saw Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez by her, those mean smirks plastered on their faces.

"Sweet Lord, you sure look like Pippi Longstocking!" Santana said loud enough as soon as Brittany looked at her. "You're just missing those braids and the freaking red hair…but I'm sure _we_ can fix it in no time."

"What're you talking about?"

The girl rounded Brittany like the blonde girl was a small mouse. "Why haven't I seen you, Pippi?" She asked looking up at Fabray with curious eyes.

"She isn't in glee club. She's been hiding better than most losers," Fabray answered smiling too, leaning on the locker next to Brittany's.

"Oh, that's why! You're such a _good girl_ for not entering that club, Pippi!" Santana mocked patting Brittany's cheek with her right hand. It was soft and delicate, and Brittany thought it was a flower's petal touching her face.

Everyone was starting to gather around to watch the exchange between the cheerleaders and the not-so-new-girl.

"What else did you do right, Pippi? Have you saved your classmates from boring classes too? Sure has, with these weird clothes of yours. And where's your pet monkey? I'm sure Pippi Longstocking had a pet monkey. Where's it?"

Brittany blinked a few times. "Mr. Nilsson?"

"_Fuck_, you _are_ freaking Pippi Longstocking! Who let you out of the book?" Santana returned to Quinn's side, glaring at Brittany from head to toes.

"Why are you doing this? I didn't do anything to you," Brittany whispered, making the Lopez girl frown.

"Yeah, you didn't. But I've never had a Pippi Longstocking parading through the hallways," Santana answered with a shrug. "The dwarf's pullovers are boring me these days, I need new stuff." And then she gave the most devilish grin Brittany had ever seen.

"_We_ definitely need new stuff," Quinn agreed, biting her bottom lip while she analyzed Brittany's outfit one more time. "That He forgives me, but you have the worst clothes on the planet, for Christ's sake!"

Santana laughed at Quinn's face and nodded. "Sure has. Anyways, we got things to do, but we'll see you around, Pippi Longstocking. We're dying your hair soon, right?" And with that both girl walked off, leaving a dumbstruck Brittany on the hallways.

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><p><strong>AN:** So…What do you think? I haven't quite _liked_ the way it ended, but I couldn't change the voice in my head. I wanted a different pace, but I still had to write something, so I really hope you people around there could give me some feedback. It would be really good. Sorry for any mistakes, they are completely mine. And I promise…Oh, I promise nothing. Wait for what's to come. That's it. See you!


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